Author's Note: This is my first fic for Heroes. I figured that I could try to experiment with this fandom with a humor-fic, which would allow me to mess with the personalities of the characters a little. (Yay for getting away with having characters OOC!) But hopefully I've managed to only skew the characters in this just a bit. However, I've rated this 'T' for a lengthy description of implied sexuality. If anyone thinks it should be upped, please let me know. Enjoy! ~ RK
The Spare Time of Serial Killers
Downtime occurred in every profession from accountants, to artists, to senators, even to the lives of a student. It also occurred in the life of the serial killer. They didn't always go around killing people. After someone becomes known for doing a hobby…well, it sort of becomes a job! Then, it's time for them to find another hobby with which to occupy themselves in their newfound spare time.
This realization hit the serial killer named Sylar, or otherwise known as Gabriel Gray, after he'd killed yet another victim and acquired yet another interesting ability. Somewhere along the line his watch-making – or as he called it "timepiece restoration" – profession morphed into one of his hobbies, and his hobby of hunting down, busting open the skulls of, and ultimately killing people for their special abilities turned into his job. It was a disappointing thing, really. With little enjoyment these days derived from anything to do with watches – he didn't even fix his own that he'd smashed in one of his professional escapades! – he needed a new activity. Something he'd missed out on somewhere in his younger days.
He decided it was time to prank people.
He started with doing seemingly obscene things right there in public. Although the first time? Well, that was a complete accident. The birth of these harmless pranks was the time he stood slightly in the shadow of a pillar belonging to an impressive business building.
He'd been running low on his hair care products recently. Someone else with abilities would think that he would use his powers in order to keep his hair looking as tamed as he did. What they would not have expected was that thanks to decades of side-combing his hair and setting it with hair product that his deserting father had probably used a decade ago was now such a deep-rooted habit that he couldn't stand to not use any sort of hair product to keep himself looking styled, tame, and…rather dashing if he said so himself. Only now he took the side-combing out of the scenario!
And there he was in the shade of the pillar, with his new can of aerosol hairspray wrestling with the nuisance of a cap. He was holding it at the level of his hips and was trying to pull the cap off. It didn't occur to him to simply use one of his numerously stolen powers to achieve this, since he'd been dealing with hairspray and gel and wax since he was younger, since before his powers. Then, he finally succeeded. With the cap in one hand, and no energy to lift the can to his wildly mussed hair, he slowly, lazily shook the can, his hand still in front of him at hip level.
It was only when he was leaning his head against the pillar, breathing heavily from his former exertions, that he realized just what the image he presented to the public could seem like. When he opened his eyes to the horror-struck faces of little old ladies on the sidewalk, his thoughts were confirmed. That is, until he noticed the giggling pair of young women who were obviously watching him and finding his lewd seeming behavior as amusing.
He doubted they'd find it so amusing if he just lifted his finger and sliced open their skulls. But, with one sadistic grin sent their way as he used his innate power of understanding how things work, he was saddened just a little to discover that these giggling girls, were just that. Giggling girls. Nothing was…special about them. What a pity. That could have been fun.
His attention was drawn to someone…who seemed to be arguing on the phone with someone. "You just don't understand!" this younger man was shouting into the phone as he waved his arm in what was possibly a very sloppy attempt to hail a taxi. Sylar watched with an amused grin as the man continued pacing near where he stood. "You just don't under—Oh, my God! I shit on your family!" Then, miraculously a taxi pulled up and the man got into the yellow car.
But all Sylar could think about was the last exclamation he'd heard erupt from the man before he was driven away by taxi. Suddenly, a slow smile spread across Sylar's face as he had an idea for a nice prank he could pull on someone…he would wait for the perfect opportunity.
~X~X~X~X~X~
It was pure happenstance that he encountered a woman who had a rather convenient talent: Pyrokinesis. He was not about to let his little setback at the Bennet house completely distract him in his quest for more powers. Oh, no. However, he really wanted some serious revenge for getting shot by Noah Bennet! Really? Just because he was planning on having a nice sit-down with the rest of his family while he rotted in his former cell, and then after what would have hopefully been a really enjoyable dessert slice open Bennet's daughter and take her power? Did that warrant getting shot? He didn't think so.
Good thing he was able to run out of the house before any real damage had been done.
He just didn't go as far as they thought. He'd only gone to the next town more or less and was huddled over his cup of steaming tea, wondering how he could get revenge on Bennet when he noticed first that his feet had been dislodged from the chair across from him on which they were resting. Then he noticed that it was done by a woman with…rather lovely hair. Her hair was probably why he didn't kill her on the spot. Well, that and the fact that he was in the middle of a ridiculously crowded little diner in the middle of nowhere! That was just more attention than even he wanted to deal with.
However, he was surprised when she spoke to him. "Do you mind?"
He dumbly shook his head and gestured for her to take the seat. She did, looking either shy or uncomfortable with her milkshake. Maybe it was because he was staring intently at her. That tended to make people uncomfortable around him. He wasn't trying to be creepy. He was trying to understand them, to figure them out. And what he discovered was simply…convenient. "You have a power, too."
As soon as she heard the word 'power' she began to stand, but then a moment later the word 'too' registered and she stared at him in surprise. "You work for the Company?" she asked.
"If the Company means people who lock you up, drug you into submission, and then torture you, then…I guess we can say I outwitted them when I escaped."
Then, she smiled a little. "One of us then." He tilted his head at her in askance. "That's their policy. 'One of Us, One of Them.' They only lock up who they consider dangerous."
He calmly sipped his tea. "So were you one of the workers or the prisoners?"
As he lowered his cup she smirked – was it bitterly? "A little of both for a while."
"Which was first?"
"Worker."
He tiled his head in the other direction, curiously. "What changed?"
"When I noticed they kept my brother locked up."
He knew she was about to unload some terrible personal woe on him, but he was not really in the mood to hear it. Instead, he decided to get right into what he was plotting. "You know a guy named Bennet?" When her expression changed, he knew she was interested. Good.
~X~X~X~X~X~
That night Sylar found himself hiding near Noah Bennet's house, hunkered down in the shadows with his unexpected accomplice. Between the two was a brown paper bag. It had taken all day to wait for Mrs. Bennet and her stupid fluffy dog to make a little visit to the yard. But as usual, patience paid off.
"You owe me for this," she said, with a not-serious glare.
"I'll buy you a coffee after we do this. How's that?"
They had the perfect view of Bennet's door. Sylar smiled in anticipation.
"Ready, Flamegirl?" he said to the woman next to him.
She rubbed her middle and index fingers with her thumb, a small orange flame flickering at her fingertips. It was all he needed to know. With the focus of a gifted assassin, Sylar used his telekinesis to levitate and then float the unremarkable paper bag from their hiding place and towards the door of the Bennet house. He was practically shaking in amusement and immature vengeance. Then, disaster struck!
The door opened!
Sylar halted the progress of the paper bag's flight towards the door with widened eyes. This could not be happening! He was so close!
Then, his smile returned as he recognized the silhouetted figure that had taken several steps away from the door and into the yard. With a very pleased expression, he spoke to his new pyrokinetic friend. "He's going to notice it. When he does, you have to be ready. Any second now." She nodded. Both of their attentions were riveted to the man's silhouette…
…who was slowly drawing his gun. Sylar frowned. He hated that gun. Then, he realized that Bennet pulling out the gun could make this idea even better!
"Light it up!" he snapped in a whisper.
Whether she was surprised or as eager to see the result as Sylar didn't matter. Like a human blowtorch, a jet of fire shot from their hiding place and lit the paper bag on fire! In another instant, Sylar let it fly! Right at Bennet's head!
Bennet turned around and, with the reflexes of a man used to shooting a gun without really aiming before pulling the trigger, shot the projectile flaming bag! Sylar grabbed onto his accomplices arm excitedly as they watched the ensuing explosion. What Mr. Muggles had left in the yard a few hours ago was now raining down all over Noah Bennet and the yard immediately surrounding him. He was standing there covered in and surrounded by steaming dog fecal matter looking extremely and splendidly aggravated. The moment, however, did not last long. He raised the gun again and pointed it in the direction of their hiding place. He must have seen the origin of the flames. "Come out, you son of a bitch!" he shouted.
"Time to go," said Sylar to his partner in prank.
As they fled with rather remarkable speed, the image of Noah Bennet covered in his pet's exploded and flaming crap stayed in his head and made Sylar smile. Mission accomplished.
~X~X~X~X~X~
As promised, coffee was on the menu for the celebratory drink of accomplishment. He was gentlemanly about the whole thing. He let her choose the establishment, which she decided on a little trendy place with edgy décor. He offered to let her relax and sit down while he placed their orders. He even let her pick her place to sit while he paid for not only his but her drink as well.
He'd just flung himself into the plush armchair with a contented sigh the little receipt of their order between two fingers when he noticed she was looking at him oddly. He looked at her with an expression that silently gave her permission to ask what she was clearly wondering.
"I just realized," she said with a charming little grin which for some very odd reason reminded him of a certain cheerleader from whom he'd somehow failed to steal a fantastic ability. Maybe they were related. Hmm… "I don't know your name."
He stared at her for a moment and contemplated answering when he heard a teenager's voice call from the register area. "Iced grande soy latte for Sylar?" With a smirk, he got out of the comfortable armchair and practically sauntered over to retrieve his coffee. He flashed a smile at the teen and handed her a disgustingly generous tip. He didn't even care that she batted her eyelashes at him, blushed, and giggled.
He headed towards the door without a backward glance. As he opened the door, though, he heard another order called out. He realized suddenly that he'd forgotten a straw. With a quick eyeroll he turned around just enough to extend his arm toward the straws. With a subtle gripping gesture, a straw flew into his waiting hand, the paper falling off along the way, thanks to his powers.
He noticed then that the flamegirl's expression towards him was one of stunned surprise. Had she really not known whom she'd agreed to assist in defiling Noah Bennet? Apparently not. With more attitude than necessary, Sylar jabbed the straw into his latte, then turned and headed out the door, a smirk twisting his lips.
End Note: I hope everyone enjoyed this. Thank you for reading! The ending scene was inspired by a clip of an interview I stumbled across on YouTube called "Zachary Quinto (Sylar) on Starbucks Service." Review and let me know what you thought. Please, keep flames (no pun intended) to yourself. Thanks! ~ RK